The Killer Inside - SN fic - PG13
Title: The Killer Inside
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: not my characters. just for fun.
Warnings: AU for “Born Under A Bad Sign”
Pairings: nary a one
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 1080
Point of view: third
Dean runs fill tilt into the door, praying Sam won’t have gone too far. A hunter is one thing-but Jo? She played a good game but wasn’t a threat. Not yet.
So when he looks and sees Sam bent over her, tied to a post, talking, he feels relief and a bit of anger, and then Sam turns around, holds that big-ass knife to Jo’s throat and tells Dean to do it, to kill him, because doesn’t Dean see what Sam’s becoming?
And Dean looks from Sam, baby brother spiraling out of control and losing himself in madness and blood and death, to Jo, someone of no consequence, who doesn’t matter, and Sam is still yelling for him to do it.
Still holding the gun steady, pointed at Sam’s heart, Dean says, “Are you in there, Sammy?”
Jo’s eyes widen and her gaze darts from Sam to Dean. Sam smirks and pulls the knife away from Jo’s throat, tilts the blade at the floor. “Parts of me,” he answers. “But mainly-nope.”
Dean nods, considers. “You executed a man, little brother.”
“I know,” Sam laughs. “And it was fun.”
Sam’s eyes are bright and glittering, and Dean knows it’s too late. He’s failed to save Sam and the only thing left to do-Save him, Dean, or kill him-
Dean shifts and pulls the trigger, gaze never leaving Sam’s eyes. They fill with fear and shock and disbelief-but then, when Sam realizes he’s not the one slumping down with unseeing eyes, glee and unholy joy steal across his face.
“You just declared your side, big brother,” Sam says, letting his knife dangle loosely from his fingers. “And don’t think I’ll let you go back.”
Dean nods again, holstering his weapon. “I know.”
With a quick, brutal movement, Sam savagely stabs his knife through Jo’s right eye and lets his hand fall. Dean doesn’t react and when Sam looks back his way, Dean smiles. Sam’s grin is a dark parody of itself and Dean feels a brief moment of regret for the boy Sammy used to be. But that boy is dead and gone, and Dean will never be able to get that boy back. All that’s left is the damaged man standing before him.
The man who steps toward him, eyes dark and demented, and asks, “What do you want, Dean?”
Dean’s smile is small and bitter. “Nothing you can give me.”
Sam smirks and keeps walking, stopping a hand’s-breadth from Dean. “Dad told you to kill me, Dean. You promised me you would.”
Dean nods. “I lied,” he answers. “I could never kill you, no matter what you did.”
Sam reaches out to touch Dean’s face and let his hand fall to rest on Dean’s shoulder. “Hunters’ll be after us, and normal people, too. And the demons, when they see I’m not doing what they want.”
Dean tilts his head. “Then what was this? And that hunter?”
Sam chuckles. “She hurt you, attacking you with Dad’s actions after we saved her ungrateful ass. And that idiot hunter was going to come after me in a few months, so I just jumped the gun a little.”
“You’re not gonna join old Yellow-Eye?” Dean asks again, just for confirmation.
“No,” Sam assures him. “The bastard’s done too much for us to ever work together.”
Dean stares at Sam for a moment, thinking. “We should erase every trace you were here,” he finally says. “Then we continue on, hunting when a hunt comes our way.”
“Okay,” Sam decides with a small nod. “Let’s do it.”
They leave Jo tied to the post and hose her down with water. “You hate me for changing, don’t you?” Sam asks as he wipes off the bar.
“No,” Dean replies, grabbing all the bottles and shattering them on the floor, then fills a pitcher with water and tosses it over the pieces. “I could never hate you, Sammy.”
Sam goes to fetch the Impala from where he’d stashed her while Dean lights an old rag on fire. He drops it on the floor by Jo and quickly hurries from the building. Sam pulls up a second later, about a dozen yards away, and Dean brushes away his tracks as he walks to the car.
“So,” Sam says when Dean’s in the car, “I was thinking.”
“Oh, I bet that hurt,” Dean cuts in, simply because they both know it’s a remark he should make.
“If everyone already believes we’re thieves and killers and insane, why don’t we go on a spree?” Sam doesn’t take his eyes off the road and Dean looks behind him, at the fire.
“Because the world isn’t the same it used to be,” Dean replies.
“No,” Sam agrees. “It’s not.” He flicks Dean a glance. “We’re already outlaws, wanted dead or alive. And the way Dad raised us-what else can we do? We’ll never have normality, and neither of us would know what do with it. We can still hunt, and we already steal, anyway.”
Dean turns slightly, looks silently at Sam for a few minutes, weighing and judging and remembering. When he speaks, he says, “There’s a guy I know about fifty miles south. He owes me a couple hundred dollars.”
Sam grins and turns Metallica up louder, sings along. Dean can only wonder where this’ll end-or how. Because some hunters already know about Sam and the Feds know about Dean, and Ellen knows Sam was missing.
“We need to make a stop by the Roadhouse soon,” Dean says, going against everything he used to be. “Got some loose ends there.”
He feels Sam’s gaze, assessing him and considering him, and then Sam tells him, “I’ll let you walk away.”
Dean stares out his window and replies, “I’m where I want to be, Sam.”
“Roadhouse before or after guy?” Sam asks and Dean says, “After. It’ll be a few days before Ellen learns Jo’s dead.”
Sam’s laughter is sudden and more than slightly unhinged, and Dean knows there will never be another chance. He’s lost all opportunity to follow Dad’s order, to keep that thrice-damned promise to Sam.
And Dean turns his back on who he used to be, on what he used to believe, and knows that this new road can only end badly-but he can’t do anything else. He can’t kill Sam, or betray him. All he can do is stand beside Sammy and do his damnedest to keep Sammy alive.